


Egg Creams for Two

by b_ofdale



Category: The Alienist (TV), The Alienist - Caleb Carr
Genre: Gen, Light Angst, Set between episode 7 and episode 8, let John adopt Joseph 2k18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-31 18:56:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13981278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b_ofdale/pseuds/b_ofdale
Summary: Without a doubt Joseph had had enough disappointments throughout his short life, and John wasn’t about to be added to a certainly long list of those.Even more so knowing what it felt like; being disappointed—and being a disappointment, too.





	Egg Creams for Two

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to say "I can't believe it took me so long to write a new The Alienist fic" but then I remembered I've had writer's block for over two months... after a few fails (tried to write new fics, tried to finish others, all without success) I finally managed to write a short fic! It feels great to finally post something. :)
> 
> So, here's a little fic featuring John and Joseph! I went for the show's characterization for John, but I very probably kept some bits of book characterization as well. Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy it! :D
> 
> Huge huge thanks to my lovely [Liz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnsmoore) for the editing! <3

“How’s it looking?”

Joseph held up the drawing pad before John’s face, so close he could barely see anything of what the boy had done. Gently pushing the pad away, John was met with Joseph’s own face, big hopeful eyes meeting his in a way that reminded John of himself when he was Joseph’s age.

The drawing on the pad wasn’t much better than his had been at the time, yet for a boy who had never drawn anything in his life before, it spoke of undeveloped talent. To an untrained eye, it still looked like a child’s work, but unlike his father to whom he’d shown the fruit of his hard work back then, John said, “It’s a good start. A very good start.”

Joseph grinned, placing the drawing pad back on the counter of the café they were sitting in, tapping the charcoal pencil against his cheek and leaving a black stain upon it. 

As he returned his full attention back to the paper, shielding the lines he traced from John’s eyes with his arm, Joseph stuck out the tip of his tongue in concentration, barely listening, it seemed, to John’s unsuccessful attempts at convincing him to let him see.

Seeing that Joseph wouldn’t back down, John sipped his egg cream instead, glancing at his young friend every now and then. These meetings with Joseph—they did him good, kept his mind off of things, and John hoped they did the same for Joseph. The next day he would leave for Washington with Laszlo. . . and he couldn’t help but feel uneasy at the thought of not being near, if anything were to happen. 

Bitterly, John wondered that since he couldn’t even defend himself, how could he protect Joseph then? He hadn’t escaped Connor, nor—John shook his head, pushing the memories of the night at Paresis Hall nudging at the corner of his mind to the back of his head. The pit of his stomach clenched unpleasantly. He guessed that someday he’d have to face them, try to remember what he knew deep within him had happened—but never did he find the strength, and perhaps, he thought, it was for the better. 

“What happened to you?” Joseph had asked earlier, gaping at him. When John had sat beside him with a groan, he’d raised his hand to brush his fingers over John’s black eyes and the cut on his nose, brows furrowed at John’s apparent pain. 

“Nothing you should worry about,” John had tried. Without much success, for Joseph had pressed his fingers over the damage slightly harder, getting a scoff out of him.

“Oï!” John had quickly but gently pushed Joseph’s hand away, before sending an offended, hard look to the shop owner behind the counter who’d been staring at them curiously. He’d gone back to cleaning his glasses, chuckling to himself.

“That doesn’t sound like nothing,” Joseph had stated matter-of-factly, but hadn’t insisted when John had merely handed him his drawing pad and a pen, ignoring the boy’s glare. 

John felt like dying, his whole body in pain and the worst headache plaguing him, but there was no way he would have missed his meeting with Joseph—not after remembering how happy and interested Joseph had looked when he’d offered to give him a drawing lesson. Without a doubt Joseph had had enough disappointments throughout his short life, and John wasn’t about to be added to a certainly long list of those. 

Even more so knowing what it felt like; being disappointed—and being a disappointment, too. 

Eventually John managed to catch a glance at the drawing Joseph was putting so much effort and concentration into—and felt a strong wave of emotion wash over him as he recognized none other than himself, made all the stronger by his previous negative thoughts. 

Taking back control of his emotions before Joseph could notice took a moment. When John was sure he wasn’t going to cry like a child as he made sure that he had seen properly, he gave the drawing another look. 

It really was him that Joseph was drawing, and—

“I’m pretty sure my nose isn’t that big,” John noted with a frown, and barely retained a huff when Joseph stared at him for a moment, his eyes going back and forth from the drawing to him, only to shrug and keep going without making the slightest change. 

“Don’t look yet!” he merely said. “I’m not done.”

Taking a piece of paper and another pen, John began to scribble on it as a way to distract himself from his worried, emotional thoughts—nothing elaborate, as to not discourage his friend; the glass of egg cream, Joseph’s cap, his own ring, all roughly sketched. By the time John was done with the ring, Joseph had set down his pen, looking down proudly at his work, before he showed John the result.

Though he was smiling, John couldn’t not notice the familiar spark of anticipation in Joseph’s eyes. 

It wasn’t great art—but nonetheless John could recognize himself easily, and already there were traces of precision in the lines Joseph had drawn. If he worked hard, there was no doubt Joseph could go far. 

John tilted his head slightly to the side, the corner of his mouth turning upwards into a small, encouraging smile of his own. He tried not to let show how touched he was to have been the subject of Joseph’s inspiration, but knowing himself he was probably not any good at it. “You’re doing fine, Joseph. You’re good at this. With some work, you’ll do as well as me.”

With an eyebrow raised, Joseph looked back at him. “You mean, I could earn _money_ with it, like you?”

“Yes.”

Joseph let out a sigh, eyes down. “That’s nice of you to say, but—”

“But what?”

“I know it isn’t true.”

John’s brows furrowed. “What is?”

“That I’m good at it. That I could do something else,” Joseph explained, not meeting John’s eyes. “I’ve never been good at anything.”

“Don’t say that.”

Joseph shrugged again.

“ _Please_ , don’t say that,” John insisted, almost pleading. Familiar—this was so familiar, it stung. “Look, Joseph. I am good at this. I know, because I worked hard, and now people pay me to draw. And if there’s one thing I can tell you, it’s that when I was your age, I drew like you. I can recognize potential, and you have it, and I need you to believe me when I say it.” 

His tone must have convinced Joseph to listen, for he was now laying careful eyes on him. “You really think so?” Joseph asked quietly.

John nodded, trying on another smile. He then looked down at the drawing pad, letting the tips of his fingers hover over it. “My father, he never believed in me, never approved of me nor of my choices, but I kept trying anyway. And sometimes, like you, my mind would tell me that my father was right. That I wasn’t actually any good, and that even with hard work, I wouldn’t get anywhere.” John paused, glanced back at Joseph. He didn’t say that sometimes, he still thought so. “Well, it wasn’t true.”

Joseph was silent for a moment, staring down at his messy drawing. Then, his voice full of regret, and sadness, too, he said, “But I can’t just leave. . . and even if I could, I have nowhere else to go.”

In time with the inaudible cracking of his heart, John blurted out, “I would. Help you, I mean.” 

It took nothing more for Joseph to perk up on the spot. He straightened up on his seat, eyes bright with hope. “You would?”

“Yes, of course, yes,” John said, feeling another wave of emotion rush through him, and he had to battle his inner self hard to not get teary-eyed, “I’d have to make some arrangements, and ask my grandmother, but—”

“Your grandmother?” Joseph sounded amused. 

John made a short dismissive wave of his hand. Today wasn’t the day he was ready to explain to Joseph that he still lived with his grandmother, embarrassing as it was, but given the look the boy was giving him, Joseph wasn’t about to forget about it. 

“Perhaps someday, you could live with us,” John suggested carefully. He’d met with Joseph as many times as the case had allowed it over the past two months, and though he had grown greatly fond of him, John didn’t wish to make Joseph feel like he didn’t have a choice. Perhaps it’d be only temporary—either way, John dearly wished to help his young friend, and above all, not repeat the mistake that, by not holding out his hand far enough, had cost his little brother's life. “Only if you’d like that, of course.” 

However John’s apprehension was quick to evaporate, for Joseph started to nod enthusiastically, somehow managing to gulp down some of his own egg cream as he did so. He then shoved his drawing, still pressed to the pad, into John’s chest.

“It’s for you,” he said, grinning up at John. 

“Oh, thank you.” John cracked a smile as he took another fond look at the drawing, before turning his attention back to Joseph. “Listen, Joseph. I’m leaving with Dr. Kreizler to Washington tomorrow. I’ll talk to my grandmother about it when we get back home, and we’ll see what we can do. Is that alright?” 

Joseph nodded again. “I can wait!” he exclaimed, enthusiasm unwavering. It warmed John’s heart, to see him like that—he hadn’t always been so cheerful during their first meetings, with his friend’s brutal death still heavy on his mind. 

“Perfect.” John then pointed to the drawing pad. “Now, try drawing something else.” At that Joseph took back the drawing of John that he’d made, and as John went on with explanations on technique, Joseph added another character next to John, a line of concentration marking his forehead.

A little boy, and recognizing the curly hair and the cap, John felt his heart grow warmer, and an emotional lump form in his throat.

Don’t cry, he internally repeated to himself.

Seeing each other truly did them both good; John could take his mind off of the case, when he managed to forget what Joseph did for a living and in what danger such work put him in, and Joseph could remember he was still just a boy, and that his relationship to grown men could be something else than sexual and abusive. 

They were unlikely friends, really—and perhaps, in a way, Joseph was one of the best things that had happened to him in months. 

Perhaps he would find an even better way to show him how much he cared.

Perhaps he would find a way to change Joseph’s life, and his own in the process, too. 

But, first, he had a drawing lesson to give, and new egg creams to order.

  


~•§•~

“So, not as easy as you thought, is it?” John asked as they stepped outside, adjusting his coat over his shoulders, his drawing pad and Joseph’s works inside it pressed against his side. 

Joseph shrugged. “Maybe it’s hard for you,” he retorted playfully, before walking away, shooting a grin at an offended, gaping John. 

“Stay safe!” John called after him, and Joseph glanced back, a smile so full of hope plastered on his face that for a moment John forgot all that was wrong with his life, all the pain that both his body and his mind had heaped over the weeks and the years.

And he too saw only hope beyond the darkness and the blood, at the end of the road.

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh it sucks to have read the book because I can't tell you all that's going through my mind right now. Two episodes left!! 
> 
> If you liked this, don't forget to press the Kudos button! And even a short comment would mean the world to me!! Thank you for reading! <3 
> 
> I wrote another fic for this little fandom back in September, [check it out if you're interested!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12179586) :D I wouldn't recommend it if you haven't read the book though, since it's got spoilers.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @ [evansluke](http://evansluke.tumblr.com)!


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